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SPILL THE WINE (Allen / Brown / Dickerson / Jordan / Miller / Oskar / Scott) War Spill the wine, dig that girl. Spill the wine, dig that girl. I was once out strolling, one very hot summer's day, when I thought I'd lay myself down to rest (Excuse me.) in a big field with tall grass. I laid there in the sun, felt it caress my face as I fell asleep and dreamed. I dreamed I was in a Hollywood movie (Places, everyone.), and that I was the star. (Three minutes, Mr. Polo.) This really blew my mind, the fact that me, an overfed, long-haired, weeping gnome should be the star of a Hollywood movie. There I was. I was taken to a place, the Hall of the Mountain King. I stood high upon a mountaintop, naked with the world in front of every kind of girl. There were strong ones, tall ones, short ones, brown ones, black ones, round ones, big ones, crazy ones. Out of the middle came a lady. She whispered in my ear, something crazy. She said: Spill the wine, dig that girl. Spill the wine. Spill the wine, dig that girl. Dig that girl. Spill the wine, dig that girl. Spill the wine. Spill the wine, dig that girl. I could feel the hot flame of fire roaring in my back as she disappeared. But soon, she returned. In her hand was a bottle of wine; in the other, a glass. She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass, and raised it to her lips, and just before she drank, she said: Take the wine, take that girl. Spill the wine, dig that girl. Spill the wine, dig that girl. Spill the wine, dig that girl.

    


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